45: Enneagram
by cali-chan
Summary: From the greek "nine lines," conveys a system of "knowledge" about nine distinct but interrelated personality types, or nine ways of seeing and experiencing the world. 300 word -ish drabbles about the Konoha boys.


**Enneagram**

**Author:** Carla, aka cali-chan  
**Rating:** PG.  
**Genre:** Introspection, angst?  
**Pairings:** None whatsoever.  
**Canon:** Manga, Shippuuden, but each drabble would probably happen at a different point.

**Summary:** From the greek "nine lines," conveys a system of "knowledge" about nine distinct but interrelated personality types, or nine ways of seeing and experiencing the world. 300 word(-ish) drabbles about the Konoha boys.

**Author's note/Disclaimer:** Based on Ichazo's Ego Fixations, NOT on the seven deadly sins (despite the similarity). For more notes on my crazy interpretation of this psychological theory in regards to _Naruto_ and all the hilarity that culminated in my writing this, please visit my ficlog, which you'll find under the username girls-are-weird at livejournal. Also, I unashamedly stole about one and a half line from Lowell and Kaye Christie's article "Insect Self-Defense" over at OurWindowOnNature dot com. Give the article a read, it's actually quite interesting. And so I basically don't own any part of that article, any part of _Naruto_ (Kishimoto Masashi does, as you all know) OR even the idea of the Enneagram (I'd like to think it belongs to humankind. Heh).

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**One. Anger.**

For a genius, he was very good at deceiving himself.

It wasn't that his father had died to protect the main branch. It wasn't even that his father had been _forced_ to die to protect the main branch-- he now knew that wasn't how things had happened. But the truth was, the one event that had shaped his life into one of resentment and pain, had also given him the drive needed to defy his own philosophy, even before he knew it could be defied.

As much as he believed that every person's fate was sealed since birth, that didn't stop him from wanting to be better than his fate. True, ninjutsu came naturally to him, but he could have ignored that. He could have not cared. Instead, he took pride in it, loved that he was better than anyone else without even trying. It made him feel that he could stand out, be recognized, and he reveled in that. Subconsciously he hoped this meant that fate had other plans for him, other than being beneath the main branch all his life. It was his anger at them that made him want to be the best. His own way to rub it in fate's face that even if the road he had to take was already paved, he would not follow it quietly.

All along, he'd subconsciously been trying to defeat fate in his very own way. Feeling angry at the main branch for imposing such a fate to begin with. Feeling angry at his own father for not doing so. Feeling angry at himself because he knew being the best ninja was worth nothing, if he was still a subject to someone else. That anger had pushed him to move counter-current.

It was the key to his cage.

Did that make him a hypocrite? Or just blind? That the person who spouted that destiny could not be changed, had himself tried to change his own?

Had he known that his father had made the ultimate choice on his own, perhaps he wouldn't have been so bitter. And he wouldn't feel like such a fool for having human impulses.

Hindsight is always flawless.

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**Two. Pride.**

People thought that he was loud and obnoxious simply because he was conceited. He admitted it probably didn't make for a very good first impression, but what they didn't know was that being out there was the best way to get people to react. He had figured that out from very early on. Not only did it make people take notice of him (which he admitted he liked), but it also let him measure who was worthy and who was not.

It wasn't that he considered himself superior, but he was loyal to a fault, and for him to consider someone his friend, they'd damn better be worthy, because he did not give his trust lightly. But when he did, he was in it no matter what. Much like his canine companion, as long as his friends were happy, he was happy, and he would do anything-- _anything_-- to ensure the happiness of his friends. But he was very careful in who the title applied to.

He was not a quiet observer; that was not his thing at all. He was talented, he knew, and he liked to share his talents with the world. Why not put out there the fact that he was good, the fact that he could take on any challenge if he wanted to? Some people took him up on it. By being brash and overconfident, he pushed into other people's barriers and when they pushed back (or not), he could see who they really were. Almost like how a dog could smell fear in a person's body, he could feel the person behind the mask, by gauging their reactions.

If that made him come off as arrogant, well... so be it. His friends knew who he really was. _He_ knew who he really was. And he took pride in that.

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**Three. Deceit.**

Being a good ninja: he does not do it out of a desire to better himself. He does not do it to get the rush of the challenge. He does not do it out of misplaced anger or to prove a point. He is a good ninja because it's the only thing there _is._ It's the only thing he has.

His comrades think him strange because he cannot feel things. And perhaps he is. Perhaps his inability to have normal feelings makes him inhuman. But growing up, he didn't have to be human. He didn't really have to be anything, except a soldier. He only had to be a ninja.

And just as people don't understand how he can be so unaffected, he doesn't understand why feelings are so important. They're just a means to an end. If he has to laugh, he will. If he has to be polite, he will. So long as he can successfully finish his missions and complete orders, he can "feel" if he needs to. Because following orders is the only thing that makes him valuable.

Or is it?

He'd never given much thought to wanting to be happy, because he couldn't quite comprehend what happiness entailed. But there is something to be said of experience-- it's like when you see someone's jutsu once, you can analyze it and maybe with enough practice, you can end up replicating it, or being able to effectively counter it. Or when you find a nice landscape, if you sit there long enough and give it all your effort, you can create a masterful painting out of it, down to the last detail.

The same could be said about happiness. He had seen it. Now he wanted to experience it.

Because he wants to be more than just a good ninja. He wants to _be._

_._

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**Four. Envy.**

All he wanted was for people to _see_ him.

Some would say he'd achieved his goal. After all, a bright-blond-haired ninja dressed in an equally bright orange jumpsuit was a hard thing to miss. Especially if he went around town pulling pranks and yelling "BELIEVE IT!" at the top of his lungs. But that wasn't the kind of attention he wanted to get. he'd always been the outcast, the idiot who was left in the sidelines, screaming so somebody would pull him in. He didn't want to be that way anymore.

For the longest time, he'd wondered what it was about him that made people hate him so. Was it because he had no parents? Because he pulled pranks? Because he couldn't do a clone jutsu to save his life? Why was that so horrible? They treated him like he was some kind of monster, and he didn't understand why. And that made him very angry.

When he finally learned the truth, he understood why. They were afraid. He _was_ a monster.

But no, he wasn't.

He wasn't, and he would _prove_ it to them.

Luckily for him, before he could go down in another spiral of self-doubt, he'd found people who believed in him. People who trusted him, who supported him, who accepted him, despite the beast locked away deep in his belly. He had friends who cared for him, regardless of what he could or could not do. Sure, he still got teased and prodded about being annoying and a dolt, but that only made him want to try even harder to live up to their respect. He could show what he was really made of, he could be himself. He could be just as good as any of them, and they all knew it. They'd let him in, like an equal.

Like he belonged.

He'd never belonged, before.

People recognized him. People _saw_ him. That was all he'd ever wanted.

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**Five. Avarice.**

He probably knew more about the inhabitants of Konoha, their allies, enemies, and each and every one of his former classmates than they did, themselves. He didn't mean to do it, but he couldn't help it; it was just the way he was. it was what he did: he watched people. One expression, one slight movement, one off-handed reaction, and he knew. He figured things out. He _deduced._ Not that he would ever reveal these things out loud.

(Damn. Keeping secrets was _so_ troublesome).

He theoretically knew it was a good skill to have. It allowed him to be a good strategist and a decent team leader (only, he didn't _want_ to be), and it also made his teammates and friends trust him, trust that he understood things where they didn't, and that they could turn to him for an explanation (only, he couldn't be bothered with it). The people around him felt safe in thinking that even if they had somehow missed a possibility, he hadn't.

But what good was knowing so much, being able to see hundreds of moves in advance, when he also knew the odds of things going one way or another, or another and another, were equally high? He knew how things _could_ happen, but there was never any certainty. Probability is an inexact science. The path to take was always a gamble. And what was worse: he was aware, more than anything, of his own limitations.

When he failed, he blamed himself all the more because he had seen it coming.

Things would be a lot easier if he really _was_ stupid, instead of a lazy genius.

But just like he couldn't stop himself from figuring things out, if he could use the knowledge to help at all, he would. He couldn't NOT do so. No matter how troublesome people were, and how troublesome it was to actually have to take action, he would, if he had to. It was just the way he was.

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**Six. Fear.**

His blonde-haired teammate likes to say sometimes that food is like a security blanket for him. That it keeps him grounded, and it has become such a habitual feeling that when he feels out-of-sorts he gets hungry, and he eats to find comfort in something.

(This is usually the part where his _other_ teammate interjects, saying if she wanted to try psychoanalysis she should probably take a look at herself first-- plenty personality disorders there!).

But he doesn't mind her comments, not really. He knows it's not an insult; she's trying to help. And who knows, maybe she does have a point.

He likes food, eating makes him happy. But looking at his two teammates (who are bound to be bickering by then), he realizes that it goes deeper than that. yes, eating is comforting, but truth is, eating makes him happy because it's something he can share. Sharing a meal, it's not only sating a physical need: it can make or break a promise. It can mean "thank you." It can mean "I'm sorry." It can mean celebration. It can mean a good bye. It could mean "nothing special is going on today but we'll eat together because we like each other and we appreciate the time we spend together."

It is a way to express the bond you have with someone, sharing something nurturing and fulfilling with them. If he didn't have anyone to share it with, food would not make him happy.

He may not be anything special, and he may like food a bit too much, but the fact that he had friends and family who understood him and supported him, that's what really made him feel secure. Without them, he would be off-balance, regardless of all the food in the world. His loved ones were his real security blanket.

He should probably tell them that.

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**Seven. Gluttony.**

There was an obvious before-and-after in his life. Before, he had been happy. Nurtured. Loved. After, the meaning of those words had been lost, blurred by the imminent desire to make the ground stop moving under his feet. The overwhelming desire to find _some way_ to stand on his own. He was alone. He had no one. All he had was himself, and all he needed to achieve his goals was power.

He would not let anyone break his control over his life. Never again.

No matter what it took.

However flimsy that control was. His world had been turned upside down so many times, and he could scarcely guess as to the reason. He couldn't understand. He had been taken by surprise, he had been blindsided over and over again, and what was worst of all, he had been powerless to stop it. All of it. Weak. Useless. Impotent. Helpless.

But somehow he knew, he _knew,_ that if he gained enough power, if he could make the people who hurt him pay for it, all of them, it would feel better. Perhaps not satisfied, because he could never gain back all the things he had lost-- his family, his faith, his innocence-- but at least he would've done something for himself.

He regretted many things. But a town, people, a way of living... that was all secondary. And if he had to destroy them all in the end, he would. He looked for illusions everywhere except in what he believed was the truth. But that truth turned out to be an illusion, too, and the only thing he could believe in anymore was himself.

But what happened if he finally reached his ultimate goal and he realized he did not feel satisfied? That he was alone, because he had pushed everybody who ever cared about him away in his quest for power, and when he finally got that power, he was still hollow?

That was the chain that held him down to his own personal hell.

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**Eight. Excess.**

Since he was very young, he had defined himself by his survival instinct. Hard work over genius, right? But it was more than that. He had been put down by others so many times, and from that no matter what everybody said, he was not going to let anything bring him down. So he wasn't the most handsome, or the funniest, or the strongest; he wouldn't let that reality hurt him. He'd push forward and so long as he gave it his best effort, he wouldn't feel hurt because he wasn't the best. He was not afraid of pain, he knew how to handle it. He believed in himself. And he believed, if he persevered, he might share this message with the world and help other people who felt the same way.

His mentor worried that this lack of fear made him ignorant of his own limits. And of course, he worried about that as well, sometimes. Despite what some people might think, he wasn't an idiot. But the truth was, while he didn't fancy himself a knight in shining (green) armor, he valued his happiness and that of the people he loved above everything else-- including his own health. He had a point to prove, and if he had to take crazy risks to do it, he would. If there was the slightest chance that he may inspire someone to stand up to his or her fears, then he would not hesitate.

He wondered, sometimes, if this was worth it. If he wasn't doing this because it was right, or because he wanted to make an impact in the world, but because he was selfish. Because he had been stepped on and he wanted to finally stand out. Did he somehow feel vindicated? He accused his teammate of being angry and lashing out in retaliation, but perhaps he was just the same.

But then he thought of his friends, the people he loved, those he would give his life for... and felt relief. Their presence and their support reassured him that his every risk was worth it, if it would make the world, their world, just a little bit better.

Whether that made him a good guy, or just plain stupid, he didn't really care.

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**Nine. Sloth.**

Different species of moths apply different methods of camouflage to protect themselves from predators: grey-and-black mottled moths will spend daytime lounging on tree bark or wooden posts; white-winged moths chose to lounge on the similarly-colored walls of Hokage tower; green luna moths made their homes amidst Konoha's extensive foliage. Once there, they were virtually invisible. The only way to notice their presence would be to stand right beside them and wave your hand in their direction.

He, himself, had made an art form of blending into the background.

He did not relish in standing out, like a few of his former classmates did. He was quite content avoiding conflict, just minding his own business while his comrades took the spotlight. He did not need the reassurance; he knew what he could and could not do, and he didn't feel the need to advertise it. He liked being around his friends-- for he did consider them so-- but felt just his presence was good enough. It didn't have to be overt. There were 1.5 billion insects for each human being on the planet; human beings barely noticed 1% of them, but in reality, they own the world.

Being in the background does not equal being unaware.

Camouflage coloration doesn't help much if you forget to land where your coloration matches your surroundings. And that meant, Konoha was his habitat, his home. He may be indolent, but never inattentive. He saw, he smelled, he heard, he felt, perhaps more than anyone else. He was not detached. He was hidden from sight where the rest of the town was not, but the best designed self-protection strategy was only as good as the creature's preservation instinct. If their home went down, every single one of them, including himself, also did. And these people, they kept the balance he lived in. That alone made him care.

If anything threatened to upset that, he would fight it.


End file.
